PSA: Baby Gift Unregistry

As you likely know by now, I have been assigned a youngling. His name is DX (that's "Deion Xavier"...you can guess which half was my contribution) which is a way cooler name than mine, and for what basically amounts to a adorable malfunctioning alarm clock that shits until he's an advanced infant and can do more things, he's actually pretty okay. To get all gushy and emotional about it, I kinda like the little guy.

Other people...well, damn near everybody, actually...take an instant liking to him too, perhaps due to the powerful unconscious hypnotic abilities of infants that seem to affect most people. They like him so much they often offer to give me things for his use, like clothes and toys, and even things I did not know existed in this dimension like a steam-powered baby wipe warmer. (In my day, we had to walk 15 miles to get our diapers changed with wipes that were damn near frozen...and we were grateful for the opportunity! At least, that's the story I'm kicking when he can understand English.)

While I certainly appreciate the sentiment behind the vast majority of these gifts, I feel it is important to set a precedent about which gifts are less preferable than others, in order to avoid that awkward moment when you get the item back as a gift or through your front window taped to a cinder block. If people can make lists of gifts they do want for showers and weddings and other boring events, I feel like I can make a list of shit I want about as close to my home and infant child as nuclear waste. It is the thought that counts of course...and if we have one of those moments, you should have thought about reading this post, sucka. All right, here we go:

Certain Kids' Programming DVDs: I've been doing some scouting on appropriate television for a baby to watch. Of course, he can barely see the distance to the TV and doesn't understand what the hell is going on even if he could, so for now he watches what I watch, but I realize watching "American Dad" with him ironically ain't gonna fly too long. As a result, I've checked out a few shows intended for smalller children, and come to the conclusion that there are even a few things in there I don't want him to see at that age.

For example, Caillou's whiny little punk ass is not allowed on any screens in here. His show is like a 3-color illustrated how-to guide on tantrums and why they work most of the time. Also unwelcome are the Backyardigans...the penguin and the moose are cool, but there's something else in there called a Uniqua. It is apparently both the name of the specific character and the species it belongs to. I have no idea what it is, all I know is that I want its head mounted above my fireplace one day.

Its no creature of this planet, and I'm not sure what rubs me the wrong way about it...maybe it's the fact that it has the same name and species, like naming a dog "Dog"...always hated that...could be the fact that it's a suspiciously African-American sounding (voice-wise) made up creature with a hoodrat name. Who knows...who cares. All I know is I don't like it. Also banned is "Yo Gabba Gabba"...that orange guy is weird and that one tall red bumpy thing with one eye looks inappropriate as fuck. I don't want my child playing with anything that resembles a dildo.


Baby NFL apparel bearing a logo other than that pictured on the baby- Seriously, y'all...it was cute joking around about making him a fan of this and that other team back when he was just a concept, ha-ha and shit, I get it, but he's here now. Don't threaten him like that. Worst part is it seems to come from fans of completely unacceptable squads like the Redskins and Eagles. Just because you want to be masochists, don't pull my kid into it.

I mean, it wouldn't be that all teams would be a problem, I can't see myself burning a Chargers onesie or anything, but the approved list is so short, it's best to go with blanket coverage. Do I kick down the door of your kid's Sunday school reciting from the book of Scientology or anything? No...so back off, dammit. When he's old enough to pick, then he can. Until then, it's my department. I'm serious...I mean, he'll wear it because it's clothing, but that's a hell of an expensive diaper.

Junk Mail- Most people wouldn't consider this a gift at all...shit, I don't...but maybe in some cultures, it is. Not mine, though. So, Gerber, State Farm, Kids R' Us and all you other life spammers, I don't know how the fuck you got my address or who still sends hard copies of junk mail in twentytwelve, but stop pretending you care I have a kid and sending me a bunch of paper. It's not legal tender, and I don't have a parrot, so I don't fucking need it. When I need you, I'll call you...until then, please forward all mail addressed to me directly up your corporate asses.

Toys with a volume level over 50db- If you don't know how to measure decibels or don't have the proper equipment to measure sound lying around, simply put it next to your head and press it 30 times. If you make it through the test, it passes (and kills the juice just a little). Of course, if you don't have time for that, I can understand. Go ahead, get him that colorful supersonic noisemaker...he'll still get to play with it, AND I'll have extra remote control batteries! With a bit of super glue for the toy's battery chamber, everyone wins!

A sibling in the next 5 years- All I ever heard for the past 6 months or so was how much of a gift a baby is...I'm taking this opportunity to let everyone know my cup runneth the fuck over with blessings. That's enough for now...no mas baby mamas. I know after a while people start asking when the next one's coming...do you a favor and don't. I barely made it through this first adventure, why in your deity's name would you wish it on me again?

I feel it's fair that I let you know that wishing another unscripted baby cameo on me right now is a direct threat in my eyes...so the first person who asks that me that, follow it up with a silent prayer, because I'm going hyper-combo on your ass. I'm going to leap up on you and wail on you with all 5 limbs. Headbutts like you've never even seen. I will fuck. You. Up. Sure, I might be joking...but what if I'm not? That's about the damndest way to forfeit some teeth I've ever heard...so just don't.

Hopefully, any parties interested in giving a gift to little DX will take note of this gift unregistry and plan (or unplan) their contributions accordingly. You might say it's a little rude to exclude certain gifts from eligibility...well, it's not nearly as rude as burning it on YouTube, so save your money if you were going to go with one of the above items. Thanks for your time!

*saves mic as family heirloom*


Video: "FfYL" Breakdown Part III

Yeah, I'm busy today...

ajmoses.com: Kickin' Ass, Takin' Notes.

Picture Negative: A Letter To Angry White "Hunger Games" Fans

Dear angry white “Hunger Games” fans,

I have to preface this letter by saying that I have never read any of the books nor seen the movie based on them. I do know the premise of the series, have seen many copies of the books around the office, and think the film and franchise at large looks pretty damn interesting. In fact, I may find some time to review the source material besides the back of book jackets and light Googling.

However, that is not what I write you to discuss today, as I don’t have to know all that much about it to raise this issue. I was recently combing the internet seeking murder weapons for time when I came across an article about the recent film adaptation, or more specifically, the casting therein. Apparently, the casted actors did not match many of your mental images of your favorite characters.

This is not normally too much of an issue in cinema. I mean, who the hell pictured Ben Affleck as Daredevil or Mr. Mom as the early 90’s Dark Knight? However, what brought this particular incident to my attention was the fact that many of you were upset that 2 main characters, described in the books as having features like “dark skin” and “black hair”, were depicted in the movie using African-American actors.

Some of you were not only upset, but fully enraged about the casting choices. The article featured a few of your Twitter reactions to them, and you said some pretty ugly things. Many of you expressed vehement anger that they would dare to put brown-tinted people in roles that called for…exactly that. A few of you said that the events which unfolded with one “newly” black character were not as meaningful now that you put a black face to her name. (Trying hard to dance around spoilers here, work with me.)

Some of you even threatened to boycott the movie entirely as a result of having to unexpectedly see African-Americans in roles you didn’t see as quite so…dark. This concerns me for reasons that are pretty obvious if you scroll down the right side of the page a bit. (I put it so far down so people like you would possibly read a few of my words before you saw me, realized I could both read and write, and recoiled in horror before wiping your internet history, and uninstalling and reinstalling your browser.)

As a person casted in real life with dark skin and black hair, I feel I have a responsibility to say something to you…and that’s that you should pull your head out your pee pipe and calm your dumb asses down. You see, it happens to people like me all the time, and we don’t get all bent into our true shapes about it. Even if the character descriptions hadn’t pretty much demanded black people, it’s about time we got one back anyway.

Take, for instance, the recent film adaptation of comic book “Green Lantern”. While it’s true that the series centered around a white guy for its first 40 years, many modern fans had become familiar with his African-American successor, as most popular depictions of the superhero for about a decade leading up to the film involved a black man. However, when it came time for the Hollywood blockbuster adaptation, those who made the film decided to go with the white Lantern, choosing that one white guy from all those romantic comedies to portray an intergalactic guardian. I got right over that and in line for tickets in one smooth motion, as did many others like me, simply because I'm a huge fan of GL.

Not a comic book guy? Not the worst thing ever...I can still make my point. Ever seen "The Matrix"? I don't think you would have if the original lead stuck around. Sure, Will Smith can make more facial expressions than Keanu Reeves...Easter Island heads do too...but could he have dodged bullets? We'll never know...but I love the movie anyway. I don't sit around crying that they picked a white guy when the casting likely didn't call for one (well, the entire script being stolen from an unfortunate black lady was pretty uncalled for too, but that's a separate discussion)...I just enjoyed a supremely awesome flick again and again and still every time it comes on cable.

Hell, let's go to the most often miscast person of all time...how many straight haired lily-white folk do you figure were walking around the deserts just north of Africa a couple thousand years ago? Not too many? Likely none? Yet, when I mention the name Jesus, the image you likely come up with likely resembles a Starbucks barista. Would he still be your homeboy if you found out he was a little (or a lottle) darker than most imagine? Think about it.

Hopefully you see by now that a little unexpected casting does not completely taint a work, and can begin your healing process by getting the fuck over it. In closing, I'd just like to say that I'm not angry at you. Quite the contrary, I'm proud of you if you made it this far. You said some stupid shit and I'm just rubbing your nose in it a little. I really don't think you dislike people like me that much. That is, unless you actually do believe the shit that comes out of your mouth and mouse...in that case, may the odds never be in your favor, bitch.




Inactivism: A Field Guide to Posing Against the Machine

Well, in case you haven’t noticed, appearing to care is the new black. It’s all the rage on the internet…these days, you just can’t sit at the cool kids’ table unless you bring some semblance of social awareness to it. Whether it’s a crisis overseas, an environmental concern, spreading awareness about some disease or other (I think we’re all aware of breast cancer by now…I don’t want anybody’s titties to rot and I don’t have to own a single pink item for you to know that…it’s common sense. Maybe we need to move on to another disease…like limbic encephalitis?) or the social injustice of the week, whatever it may be, in twentytwelve, apparently you gotta be up to be down.

Of course, there are many people who actually care about these issues, devoting their actual time, efforts, and resources to their cause of choice for an honest-to-their-deity attempt at its permanent advancement. You might not be one of those people. Instead, you may latch onto whatever topic is being popularly discussed at the moment and focus on it with all the intensity of a lifelong crusade…that is, until the next one comes up. It’s a more common practice than you’d think…proof, in light of recent events, is available on your friendsite of choice.

You may believe that exploiting social issues and other important goings-on for cheap thrills such as social networking approval and other unimportant goings-on is a somewhat distasteful thing to do, something only a prolific sycophant or a fuckin’ douchebag might consider as a means of garnering attention. (We may believe the same thing in that case.) Then again, you may not and just want the same cool t-shirt the people who give a consistent fuck get to wear. This one’s for you…here’s “Inactivism: A Field Guide to Posing Against the Machine”.

Step 1- Find a cause. It doesn’t matter what it is, whether it actually affects you or not, or whether there are similar and equally, if not more important issues closer to your home than you like to think about. It just has to be discussed a lot right now. As I mentioned before, there’s plenty to choose from. There’s always an illness or an evil dictator to go all Two-Minutes’-Hate on. Anything involving race usually makes waves…make sure you’re one of the first web surfers you know on it. Point is, you get to choose your own bandwagon ticket, so pick a trending tribulation and go for it.

Step 2- Don’t educate yourself too much. Otherwise, you might find out what you’re talking about and develop your own opinion. You don’t want that…there’s a chance you might disagree with most other people and you won’t be as popular. As you likely have a personality that most people like a lot more as long as you say what they say and nothing else, that’s not a gamble you’re in a position to take.

Instead, find out just enough about the topic to make a broad but easy-to-digest generalization about it, maybe draw a vague parallel to something that’s kinda like it and also bad in the opinion of many people. Perhaps learn and repeat a cute little slogan…that’s an easy way to get a few likes. Hell, even if you don’t know a damn thing about it, don’t let that stop you from breaking the ice with the subject…you’re probably dense enough to do it.

Step 3- Show your role, don’t shut your mouth. This is the fun part for most people, this is where you get to really be a part of something, like chanting “defense” at a football game, a fire drill, or a mass bridge-leaping competition. You’re in this thing all the way as long as everyone else is, right? You know what they say in Rome…if everybody else is going to the bathhouse, why not? Get convinced. Get concerned. Most importantly, get connected.

Log on to your favorite social network and drop knowledge on the subject off the top of your head in your updates (probably breaking the knowledge in the process). Change your profile picture to an appropriate image…that’s a good way to show how much you care, if strictly literally. Even better, make a new one by adding relevant text, even if it’s only relevant to you. Be sure to approve of and share EVERY WORD that is spoken on the subject…the message doesn’t matter, #onlythispartdoes.

Got an unrelated personal project that you want to be as popular as the issue at hand? Don’t be afraid to randomly invoke such concepts when promoting your work. Nothing shows how worldly and credible you are like referencing current events in your likely outdated and subpar material...people actually concerned with the hot topic just love that shit. Also, if you promote parties, it just wouldn’t be right if you didn’t turn whatever serious social matter into a cause for celebration, complete with drink specials…for example, nothing says “stop the violence” like cheap alcohol in a public area.

Step 4- Get the merch. How’s anybody going to know you pretend to care in real life if you’re not wearing anything that says so? Bumper stickers are usually a treasure trove of answers to questions that don’t fit on bumper stickers. T-shirts are always a popular item…and a fashion statement, if the logo for whatever the shirt is talking about looks cool. (You know, like those red shirts with that guy with the beard and hat or those green ones with the cool arrows that all point at the back of each other.)

It’s important to note that you DO NOT have to know anything about the cause to represent it. Do you know why those yellow LiveStrong wristbands existed? No, but you probably owned one anyway. It showed you cared about…something…and all your friends and favorite celebrities wore one, so why wouldn’t you? Get yourself some visible evidence that you care…it’s a great conversation piece, and some of the proceeds might go to whatever you’re supporting. Or not…but who cares, that’s a pretty sick headband, broski.

Step 5- Take it to the seats, but never the streets. You see, what you’re doing is simply appearing to care. You’re just performing the theatrics of a committed person, going crazy for your cause as long as it’s the cool thing to do. However, realize that your entire role comes from the sitting position. Sitting in front of the computer typing about it, sitting around talking about it, sitting idly by as the topic passes from popular attention and thereby becomes irrelevant…it’s all from the comfort of whatever seat is most convenient.

Taking a stand, on the other hand, is less convenient. It involves things like boycotts, marches, sit-ins and other forms of…uh…direct democracy…but that kind of stuff is so 1776. I mean, it made a brief little comeback in the 60’s, but still…that’s old-school and could get you hurt if you ain’t really about that life. The thing to do now is takin’ it to the tweets with picture memes and holding click-ins and such…it’s easy and safe. Plus, there’s no chance of getting stuck in a spot in a crowd where nobody can see you caring if you take a picture of yourself alone in your bed or bathroom in your full armor of concern.

Sure, it won’t do a single damn thing for whatever it is you claim to support, but everyone you “know” will see that and know you’re behind something (behind a lot, actually)…and that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?

Hopefully, you enjoyed this guide to really looking like you care. Of course, should you ever wish to not be a total fraud and actually find something to give a damn about that’s not on Twitter today, it’s even easier to look supportive. Until that day, I hope this helps. For umf, I’m AJ…thank you, and good night.


HiDef3- forEverClear

What’s going on with umf’ers this beautiful Friday? If you’ve been reading this for a while (all 5 of you), you might know that every year around my birthday, I give myself a gift here…the gift of being understood. See, when I write and speak…hell, think…I don’t always feel that the words and phrases that whatever governing body oversees the English language issues us to use are adequate to express some of the concepts that run through my mind at any given time.

As a result, I end up either repackaging existing words, breeding one dictionary entry with another, or occasionally making one from scratch during the course of my infotainment. (Oh, look!) It’s fun for me and most folk who checked out last year’s list and the one before that think it’s good times too, but it has the unfortunate drawback of making it so I’m always having to explain a things that come out of my mouth in one way or another.

For that reason, I started this “High Definitions” thing, so whenever somebody needed some clarification on something I said, I could just give them a url and be done with it. I’m not sure I even get a birthday this year, being all grown up at gunpoint (there’s one) and all, but just in case I don’t, I know I’ll get at least one present…well, unless you feel like getting yourself a copy of my book…I’ll count that.

(Worth a shot, right?)

Aight, without any further introbation (oh, that was last year) here it is: “HiDef3: EverClear”. All words and phrases original except where indicated and credited.

0-for-ever (oh-four-eh-vur, adj.)- Taken from sporting notation of averages, it describes someone who strikes out at everything they do, a lifetime loser.

“Man, why do you keep trying to talk to that bartender every time we come in here, she always shuts you down… you’re literally 0-for-ever with her!”

12:01 (twehlv-oh-one, v.)- Often done by those who have little or no other resources at the time, it is the act of deliberately staying up and waiting for one's paycheck to be deposited directly.

"Yeah, you can come over and chill, I don't have any food in here but we can 12:01 this situation and order a pizza or something later since we have off tomorrow."

aggro crag (ah-gro-cragg, adj.)- Named for the booby-trapped foam rubber mountain that 90's children would attempt to scale to prove they had Guts, it describes a volatile loss of emotional control that could possibly get somebody injured.

"I have to get out of this job before I go aggro crag on somebody in here and defenestrate them."

appleseed (ahp-uhl-seed, v.)- Describes the act of wandering around in the streets leaving items in random places for reasons of advertisement, competition, or in the case of the namesake, who is famous for walking across the continent planting fruit trees for a still-undetermined purpose, complete batshit insanity.

"I really don't feel like walking all the way to the store, but I can do some appleseeding while I'm out, so fuck it."

asshollectual (ahs-whole-lek-tew-uhl, n.)- A person holding a degree in the Smartass Arts. This person not only has an answer for damn near any question, but a question for damn near every answer, if necessary....and "stupid" will be applied to both if the person feels it applied to one. Advanced practitioners may be given the suffix Ph.D, or "philosopher degenerate".
"I'm not just any opinionated idiot with a few jokes...I'm a certified asshollectual."

awesometatious (aww-sum-tay-shus, adj.)- Describes something that is gaudily outstanding in its pure excellence.

"Yeah, writing a book and having it published was pretty cool, but actually getting a book deal would be awesometatious.

beeper mode (bee-pur mowde, n.)- The state of having one's space-age smartphone which does everything but the dishes reduced to a reciever for incoming calls due to delayed bill payment.

"I'm on beeper mode for the next day or so, don't expect any texts from me."

bubble maker (buh-bull may-kur, n.)- a water powered conduit for the rapid ingestion of combustible plant materials.

"Oh, you brought some with you? Well, let me grab the bubble maker and let's get this started."

click-in (clik-inn, n.)- In earlier times, the dissatisfaction of citizens took the form of sit-ins, marches, insurrection, and other forms of (kinda) civil disobedience. Today, social unrest takes place almost purely on social networks, where people click links and share pictures to show their rage against the machine. This viral activism is referred to as a "click-in".

"Hey, did you hear about the bad thing that happened? They're having a click-in about it on Twitter...we're going to send the people's will crashing through the walls of tyranny one tweet at a time!"

clothesliner (clowths-lyn-urr, n.)- The mean older brother of a one-liner, this variety of retort not only qualifies as humorous, but suddenly terminates an unwanted conversation as well as an running arm swung across the throat.

"I saw a guy approach some girl today...she told his words were nice but his breath smelled like an insult...now that's a clothesliner!"

creation partner (cree-ay-shun part-nurr)- A person who helps you make a child, whether you asked for any help or not.

"She doesn't like to be called "baby mama", so even though "creation partner" means the same thing, I'll use that instead."

cussoteric (cuhs-oh-tare-ik, v.)- Describes things which contain profanity mostly to ward off anyone who would be put off by such triviality during the discussion of much larger concepts.

"umf isn't vulgar, it's cussoteric...this is just how I talk, anyone who can't overlook 4-letter words for the better words, I don't want here anyway."

cut a promo (cuht uh proh-moh)- To deliver a short, intense speech, usually directed at a specific person, airing one's grievances in the view of the public.

"He had the nerve to shoulder bump me and then look back like I did something fucked up...so I cut a promo on his ass right there on the train stop."

depreciating ass (dee-pree-she-ay-thing as, n.)- The concept that financing sex purely for the sake of sex with those with no other merit is a bad business decision at best.

"Think about it...after you've spent all that money buying that kind of girl into your bed and it's all over and you're just laying there counting ceiling tiles...where is there to go for that investment but down? What did you really get out of it that you couldn't have gotten yourself for free? It's probably going to get more expensive and less valuable...that, my friend, is depreciating ass."

draft rating (draft ray-ting, n.)- The number that determines the suitability of a relationship partner. The number is composed from a 1-10 rating of 10 important chracteristics of a significant other to form a number from 1 to 100. For further details, see "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life". (Yes, in addition to being pretty fuckin' handy with a camera phone, I'm also now an ad ninja too.)

"I had the biggest crush on this girl from my 5:00 class, then I scouted her a little...had a few conversations, asked a couple questions...she's cute, but a 63, tops."

drawful (draw-ful, n.)- not only dreadful, but awful as well. Residents of the Philadelphia metropolitan area may note the alternate root of "draw", which is also acceptable in context.

"Saw a chick on the train today in a dashiki and Uggs...shit was truly drawful."

electrocommunication (e-lek-tro-kuh-myoo-ni-kay-shun, n.)- text messages, picture mail, social networking messages, etc.

"I told that bitch to lose my number...if I ever get another electrocommunication from her, she won't like the result."

"grown up at gunpoint"- describes someone who faced the destruction of pretty much everything they stand for in life due to an unforeseen change, determined the only way out was to gain a couple years of maturity in a few months, and did so against their will. (This person is likely doing nothing of the sort ever again as long as he is breathing to type the tale.)

"Last year he was a mostly carefree post-teenager, now he doesn't seem as happy but a little more responsible...he must have grown up at gunpoint."

hiclarity (hih-clair-it-ee, n.)- understanding through humor.

"The funniest things in life aren't jokes, they're inexplicable bullshit that someone brought hiclarity to."

hydrophobic (hi-droh-pho-bik, adj.)- describes a person who appears to be afraid of bathing.

"Every time she walks by I smell the walking dead...she must be hydrophobic."

jiffy lube (jih-fee loob, n.)- an express tryst.

"I think our friends are coming over in like 20...that's enough time for a jiffy lube, a shower, and a costume change, right?"

mantality (man-tahl-ih-tee, n.)- the cerebral processes of a person with a Y chromosomes.

"She thinks football is just a game...clearly she doesn't understand my mantality."

monodramatic (ma-noh-dra-mat-ik, adj.)- the state of having exactly one overly saturated color in your emotional spectrum.

"All she ever talks about online is how lonely she is for attention...she's so damn monodramatic."

periodic (pir-ee-odd-ik, adj.)- related to a woman's bodily resetting processes.

"She's overall a pretty decent chick, but her moods go through periodic changes."

phallovore (fa-low-voor)- a person who appears to have a diet consisting solely of male reproductive organs.

"One of the people I work with is always smiling in my face, but I know for a fact he's the one ratting me out every time I go to the bathroom without a hall pass or some shit...he's a real phallovore."

romanctivities (row-manc-tiv-it-tees, n.)- those actions, events, and occurences which are the "more than" with friends.

"We always been cool, but one we started with the romanctivities we decided to see how we worked as a couple."

rocket fuel (rok-it fyool, n.)- a strong alcoholic beverage.

"This has been a long ass week...skip the beers, I need some rocket fuel."

shame (shayme, n. *Rilla*)- A pack of lions is called a pride. This is the name for a group of losers.

"I tried to avoid even seeing him, but some guy from high school shouted me way out in public...I didn't like him or the shame he ran in back then, what makes him think anything has changed?"

slutriotism (slut-ree-uh-tiz-m, n.)- a woman's pride in her promiscuity.

"When AJ wrote that slut walk post, he stepped on the slutriotism of upstanding skanks nationwide...I'm sure he's sorry about that."

spider screen (spy-durr skreen, n.)- A severely damaged touchscreen phone display.

"Everytime I see somebody with spider screen, I want to slap them, hug them, give them a phone case, and tell them they can do better."

stupidvisor (stoo-pid-vy-zur, n.)- a small person with an even smaller position of power.

"My stupidvisor says I have to check with him before I leave the room I work in for any reason...he must be higher than I am."

trolling (trow-ling, n.)- a long-standing internet concept, it describes fucking with people for the pure sport of fucking with them.

"As soon as I can, I'm going to be trolling my son's life at every available opportunity...holding things out of his reach, playing word tricks, randomly smacking him, using submission holds...it's how I show everyone else I love them, right?"

"to the mat"- indicates a willingness to struggle violently over a concept.

"She said she wanted a green bathroom...I'm not the biggest fan, but I let her have it. Those purple flower bedsheets she's talking can't happen, though...I'm willing to go to the mat on that one."

underdosed (un-durr-dos'd, n.) the state of being regrettably sober.

"This is too much for me in my underdosed state...let's talk about this again when I'm more balanced."

uniqua (yoo-ni-qua, n.)- A catch-all term for nonstandard dumb ass rigged up names as well as actually being one.

"Oh, you named your daughter D'Areola Finesse? That's...uh...very uniqua."

untelligent (un-tell-ih-jint, n.)- lacking effective mental faculties.

"So you're telling me he got hit by a car because he wouldn't look up during his textwalk? Hard to feel sorry for him, that was just plain untelligent."

whorible (hoor-i-bull, adj.)- Sexually irresponsible to an appalling degree.

"She really tagged herself at 2 different guys' houses last night with all kinds of winky faces and innuendos? Her posting pics of stuff on her that looks better than her face and asking for dick on Facebook is one thing, but that's just straight up whoreible."

writeous (ry-chus, adj.)- Justified as writing material simply through its entertainment value.

"Now that I've done this for the year, I better have one hell of a writeous topic come Monday...nothing worse than a letdown worse than Monday itself after the weekend."

I hope you enjoyed this edition of "High Definitions" as much as I did. Shit, the only think I like more than posting these is using them...if you feel the same way, please feel free to proliferate any and all of these. Aight, that's it for my week...happy Friday, umf'ers!


Video: "FfYL" Breakdown Part II

Part III next Wednesday, another text post before that...I promise.


Video: "FfYL" Breakdown Part 1

Just in case umf'ers still don't know what the f.u.c.k. I'm talking about in "FfYL"...and for those that do, thanks!


Scrubs, Lies, and Inoculate: A Horror Story in a Baby's Own Words

So the other day was my kid's (affectionately known as "baby DX", for his initials, among other charming nicknames like "little guy", "X-man" and "shut up, you little noisebox, I just woke up at 4AM to feed and change you and I've been holding you for an hour, what the fuck could you possibly want?") first checkup and I was there with him and his mommy. He was kind of quiet throughout most of it, mostly because he probably thought we were just going to pick up more cans of yum-yum powder for him to greedily suck down, digest, and blow out the back of himself in 15 minutes.

However, this was not just any visit to the doctors...this was a somewhat disturbing experience that both of us will remember for a long time. I recall similar harrowing scenarios in my youth, and some still haunt me to this very day. After it was all over, I felt it was my job to speak with him about what had occurred, in hopes that I could help him process it and begin the healing process. (Yes, "speak with". My infantese is a bit rusty, but I watched a lot of Rugrats on Netflix recently to brush up, so the translation is servicable, if crude.)

As it turned out, the conversation was pretty interesting...he recounted to me a firsthand account of the events of that morning, which I found so interesting that I asked permission to share the story. Not only did he agree, he insisted. What kind of father would I be if I didn't share it with you, in order to raise awareness about this experience that likely is more commonplace than you suspect? To that end, here it is...a firsthand account of that fateful morning:

"I woke up when the big sky light shone and my middle felt weird. Empty. It made me uncomfortable. I didn't like it. I remembered that the yum-yum tube always makes me feel better when I feel that way, and the first lady I ever saw (I really like her, she's pretty and always nice to me and does whatever I want) always brings me the yum-yum tube when I yell, so I yelled real loud. I yelled and yelled and yelled. After too long for my taste, I saw her big yellow head, then her arms, and she picked me up.

She held me while she made a yum-yum tube, then it was all mine! I drank it all, then refused to burp because when I don't, I can do my thank-you smile. (That's when I take some of the yum-yum juice I drank and give it back out of my mouth and all over whoever gave it to me, to show how much I like them and appreciate it.) Then, the first lady wrapped my body with new warmcolors, put me in the strap chair, and took me out to one of those moving boxes that I like to sleep in.

Before we started moving, I heard the pullface man I like come in. (I call him that because of the stuff on his face. Nobody else I see a lot has that, and I like to pull it real hard to show I like him...plus sometimes when I do it, he yells words I don't hear much. I like new things.) When I hear his voice when I haven't in a while, I always look at him. I don't like him as much as the first lady because he does things like pretending to feed me just to see me turn my head and look for a bottle then moving it to the other side and laughing, but he's nice to me except when his eyes were closed before and he plays with me. I opened one eye to make sure it was him, then the box started moving, which always makes me sleepy.

Next thing I know, I was laying on my back in a new room. I never saw this room before. It had a bright light and all the walls were a color that made me feel sad. My bottom was wet and felt wrong. It was uncomfortable and I didn't like it. but the pullface man was taking my warmcolors off before I even had to yell. He looked sad too, and I wondered what was wrong with him. He kept saying "poor kid" and shaking his head. I like his head. There is something colorful on top of it all the time, and I like to try to get it, but he never lets me. Says I can have one when I'm ready, whatever that means.

After that, the first lady came back in and he gave me to her and started to play with his shiny noisy hand toy. He likes it a lot because he's always playing with it. I like it too because it's interesting, but he keeps it away from me. I think it's just for big people, and since he's really big I guess he gets to use it all the time...or something. I didn't care because the first lady's front is more comfortable than his anyway. I think the pullface man knows it too, he never lays on his own front and always on hers.

Just when I was calm and happy, another man came in. He touched me a whole lot and made really weird faces and noises that made his mouth spray and that the two people I see the most never make at me because they say they want me to speak English. I didn't know how I felt about that or him, but he seemed to be happy enough about it. After he left, two other ladies came in. They wore things that covered their face and hands, but so does the pullface man when he makes my bottom dry, and he's fine. They seemed very nice, and made me happy to see. They played with my grabbers and kickers and rubbed my middle...everybody seemed very happy to see me, and I liked the attention.

Through all this, I couldn't help but notice the pullface man over in the corner. He didn't look as happy as everyone else. Why was he sad? There were nice people, this was a new and exciting place, there were shiny things to look at, everyone was happy! Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the ladies go far away and get something shiny, but I didn't really pay it any attention because the other 2 ladies were still being so nice. The pullface man kept looking at her though...I don't think he liked any of this very much.

When the lady came back with the shiny thing, she held it in the air and played with it some. I had never seen one before, but the way it looked made me nervous. It made me uncomfortable. I didn't like it. The other lady asked the pullface man to come over and put his arms over me, kind of like a hug but more like a strappy chair that holds me still. He usually hugs me a lot, but he didn't want to do this hug for some reason. He said something about not wanting to trap me while this happens. I didn't know what a trap was, but I wondered why he wouldn't do it...I soon found out.

They called mommy to trap me instead. It didn't seem so bad. She was warm and soft like always, and one lady kept sweet-talking me while the other played with her weird toy. I still didn't like it, but I thought everything was fine as long as she stayed over there with it. That's when everything stopped being fine. The lady with the strange toy got a scary look in her eye. She raised her toy high in the air, and slowly stalked over to me like something I'm not old or worldly enough to draw a parallel to. The pullface man just shook his head. Something was wrong! This wasn't like a normal group of ladies just here to say nice words and pet me, they were doing something...else!

She came even closer to me, and I lay there struggling to slither half a block away like I do when the pullface man is trying to lay down with me on his chest, but I couldn't move! The first lady I ever saw, the one who was always nice to me and gave me yum-yum tubes and always made me feel better, was now trying to stop me from moving away from something I didn't like! So THIS was what a trap was! The pullface man had warned me, but I thought I could trust the first lady! How could she do this...whatever it was?!

Then, with an evil laugh, the lady with the toy gave it one last raise behind her head, and stuck it in me with all her strength! I yelled like I never yelled before! I yelled loud and angry! The first lady said she would never hurt me, then she goes and traps me while they stick that thing in my body and made it hurt! Everything I knew was a lie...that's over 3 things! All the ladies tried to console me, and the first lady tried to pick me up, but the pullface man snatched me away. He said he was the only one who had nothing to do with this, and I fully agreed. I didn't like any of them any more. I kept yelling to make sure everyone knew I was uncomfortable and I didn't like it. I yelled at the injustice, the betrayal, the pure deception! I yelled with every ounce of energy I had...then I tired myself out and went to sleep.

When I woke up, we were back in the room I'm used to and the first lady was holding me again. The pullface man was right there too. I didn't like her as much for some reason, but I couldn't remember why. I barely remember what I was just talking about. It felt like it happened minutes ago...a distant memory from a long-forgotten time. My middle felt empty again, but she was making me a yum-yum tube before I even had to yell. I figured whyever I was upset with her didn't matter as much as my middle feeling weird, so I forgave her and accepted my yum-yum tube. As I drank, I heard the pullface man say "he might forget, but I won't". I wondered what he meant by that...but I figured my middle was more important. I did feel like I should be grateful to him for some reason, so later when he gave me a yum-yum tube, I gave him a big thank-you smile...just to show how much I like him."

Truly, it is a tale that will stick with me for a very long time. It resonates with me in a very real way...hell, I just got over my fear of needles in time to get a tattoo. Here's hoping the kid ain't scarred for life (he shouldn't be, since they used Neosporin directly afterward). It could (and likely did) happen to you! Tell your chldren.


Tupac Back, Part II: Last Wordz

*fittedwearer's note: If you need to be caught up on this, here. The setup for this was tarded enough the first time without me retyping it 2 days late, so I'm just gonna go ahead and pick up where I left off...thanks.

As I walked into the offices of Political Underground, the nationwide lobbyist and activism organization founded by Mr. Shakur, the first thing that struck me was Pac's new image, which was on display for all who entered to see in the form of a large glossy mural done on the wall behind the receptionist's desk. Gone was the signature bandana, sagging pants, ostentatious jewelry and defiant snarl that he had become known for in many circles in this universe. Instead, Tupac was depicted in a suit and tie, gazing pensively with a slight hopeful smirk into the distance, his many tattoos covered by a European cut jacket.

I wondered just how different this Pac was from the one we knew. Maybe his mention of a life turnaround went deeper than I expected...it's was possible that the toll for his entry into the political arena was everything that endeared him to his more intelligent fans...maybe my man was a sellout. Just then, I looked closer at the mural and noticed that in the jacket was a lapel pin of an American flag and the African-American flag crossed. There was hope.

I walked up to the receptionist's desk. Her nameplate told me she was the same Linda that I had spoken to over the phone. She recalled our conversation and buzzed me into a large room in back, where other employees of his were frenetic in their attempts to set up the nationally broadcasted speech to take place in less than an hour. A life-size cardboard cutout of suited Tupac whizzed by me in the hands of eager assistants in Political Underground t-shirts. In a corner, signs like "We against the world" and " "Picture me Votin' (without having my interests served)" were being distrubuted to supporters.

In the background, I saw a TV. An early news program showed footage of the speech area, the assembled masses awaiting Pac's arrival, and discussed possible topics the speech would touch on. Clearly, this thing was legit. Just as I was taken in by the scale and legitimacy of this movement, I saw him. Strolling from behind an office door, surrounded by assistants, inspecting the various processes at hand with the care of a man truly invested in his work. Even from a distance, you could see the genuine manner in which he interacted with the people. Even thought he had just entered the room, somehow he was now the center of it. He respected them, and they him. I shook off one last urge to look behind a potted plant for Ashton Kutcher or something, then finally approached.

He greeted me as he did everyone else, with a warm smile and firm handshake. After I introduced myself as "AJ from an alternate reality", his assistants gave me a funny look. After he assigned them busy work and dismissed them, I returned it. We went back to his office, and finally my nonce-in-a-lifetime conversation could begin.

Tupac: So, AJ...glad to see you could come through, man.

AJ: Thanks, man...I know you're busy.

Tupac: Not in your universe.

AJ: True...ish...you've relaeased at least one album every year since your death.

Tupac: What?

AJ: Yeah, man. That's not even the worst thing. You ever hear this?

*AJ downloads and plays Meek Mill's "Tupac Back" from smartphone*

Tupac: The fuck is that shit? That man clearly knows nothing of my work.

AJ: It's hip-hop in my universe and era. A lot of people have been compared to you...this one guy called Ja Rule, for example.

Tupac: Ja Rule, Ja Rule...hmm...I think he sent me a mixtape back when I was still running Makaveli Records. Wasn't really too much of shit, as I recall. That guy made it big where you're from?

AJ: Well, kinda...until this other guy called 50 Cent came along and disturbed his progress somewhat. That's not what I came here to talk about though.

Tupac: They really compared that motherf--no, no...you're right. That's not what we're here to talk about. You said you had some questions for me?

AJ: Yeah, actually...the Pac in my universe was portrayed as the baddest man on the planet in the media.

Tupac: Yeah, I know...I wrote those press releases, you know. Anyway, what about it?

AJ: How do you go from that to being a politician? I mean, you gotta understand how it's a little unclear how one goes from the face of Thug Life to the face of grassroots activism in America.

Tupac: I do dig you, but from our conversations, you just seemed like a more insightful brotha than to just take things at face value. All that thug life talk, all the fuck you attitude, the things that made 2Pac 2Pac...it was all just an act.

AJ: Kinda figured that. I mean, you started out as a background dancer and art school student. Didn't really figure you decided to be a hardcore criminal once you got the means to afford not to do things like that.

Tupac: You get it. See, I tried to show my artistic, poetic side at first...get my message out to the people who would listen. Unfortunately, the people who most needed to hear what I was saying didn't want to hear shit I had to say. They thought I was too soft to spit the hard truth. Far as they was concerned, Tupac was just that quiet little art kid...why would they listen to him, especially about the shit I wanted to talk about?

AJ: So you created 2Pac from Tupac.

Tupac: Right. Instantly I had a platform fromwhich I would speak and people would listen. It felt right, especially since I had something to say. When people tell you you're saying what's on their mind but they don't have the courage to say themselves, it's a powerful feeling. Too powerful, almost...it's easy to lose yourself in something you've created.

AJ: Hmm...so what made you turn your life around? What did you do that the Tupac I knew didn't?

Tupac: Knew when to stop. I mean, once you go from art school and poetry books to jail for assault in less than 3 years, you know something's going left. Once I got hit in '94, I realized I just wasn't about that life. I was an artist, not a gangster...I was messing around with dudes that were. I realized if I didn't change my life up, I was probably going to die.

AJ: Definitely.

Tupac: --definitely going to die. So, I fell back from all the street shit and kept all my gangsta in the booth.

AJ: Which is why you never got in that brawl after the Tyson fight...and never got shot again.

Tupac: I honestly thought my career was going to suffer, but it turned out my fans had already embraced my message. I had already accessed a part of them that lay dormant and unquestioning, and I had made my impact without putting my own life in danger by imitating art with it. I already showed that I could be successful as 2Pac...I was able to influence an entire generation of lyricists.

AJ: An entire generation.

Tupac: True, but I try not to say it that much. *laughs* But yeah, I was able to reach a lot of people with my music. After I shifted my focuses a little because of where my life had went since I started out, I said to myself "Why not show these people who respect me and what I do so much that there's a different way to influence the world"? I'm a living example that if you're smart and talented, you have options...I feel that's an important thing for people, especially my people, to know.

AJ: That's crazy. So you went directly into politics?

Tupac: *laughs* Come on, man. You know that's not how it works. I'm already black, and I have a record and a rap career going against me? Had to let that whole thing cool down...I retired from full-time rap around '98. Then I worked with President Clinton as an inner-city ambassador, raising constituent awareness in underrepresented places with my brand recognition...

AJ: You went back and forth to the hood saying "I'm Tupac, please vote", gotcha...

Tupac: Then in '99 when Al Gore was running, I saw my chance to break in, so I founded Political Underground and I unified the black vote under those who would do the most for them. We won, and that put me on the political map.

AJ: Hmm...I could see that. I assume you did work on the Obama campaign too.

Tupac: Did? Who, Barack, the Illinois senator? His campaign didn't go down yet, he still has to get the Democratic nomination he's going for...but yeah, if he gets it, we'll ride with him. Even wrote him a campaign song, "Dear Obama".

AJ: Hmm...back home he ran and won in 2008. Wonder what set black people back 4 years...do you have BET in this universe?

Tupac: Black Entertainment Television? Yes, unfortunately...it's the number 2 news conglomerate in America.

AJ: Never mind. So...you ever thought about a run?

Tupac: I'd be lying if I said I didn't...but I'll be honest, I don't think America accepts me to that extent yet. Political Underground is getting a lot done though...we're in the bigwigs' ears all the time, we got the Equal Funding for Public Schools Measure passed, changed the tax structure to more accurately reflect income levels, got marijuana legalized in most states...we do big things around here. I'll give them a few years...maybe in 2020 they'll see things more clearly.

AJ: Yeah, maybe...man, Pac...I wish we still had you back home. I thought it was just for the music, but I gotta say you're serving more of a purpose around here than that.

Tupac: Listen man...the music was just a conduit. It was the voice I could scream in so that just the people I wanted to hear me would. Somewhere along the way though, I realized the ideas and insight that I have had wider applications, and everyone deserved to benefit. I've grown a lot since you knew a version of me, man.

AJ: I can see that...I think if others could too, they might look at you differently.

Tupac: Yeah, too bad.

*a Political Underground assistant bursts in urgently*

Assistant: Mr. Shakur, sir! Speech is in 30, we gotta roll to the staging point in 5!

Tupac: I'll be out in 2.

Assistant: Very good, then, sir.

*he exits*

Tupac: Well, AJ from another universe, it's been interesting talking to you, but I have to ride out.

*both rise, shake hands, begin to head for door*

AJ: I understand...I'm just glad I had this opportunity.

Tupac: Hey man...I know I'm not around in your world any more, but do me 2 favors.

AJ: Name 'em.

Tupac: Keep my spirit and message alive. The world needs people like me to challenge the status quo, to put in their face things they'd rather keep behind their backs, to shake things up, if only so they can be seen differently.

AJ: Um...I'll try.

Tupac: That's all you can do...besides actually doing it like I asked.

AJ:*laughs* Gotcha, Pac. What's the other?

Tupac: Man, tell people from where you're from to stop comparing these wack ass one-dimensional MCs to me!

AJ: I can definitely do that.

Tupac: Good shit. Aight, I gotta go.

AJ: Later, Pac!

Tupac: Not in your universe.

*Tupac is suddenly reflanked by assistants, who walk him toward his limo, he gets in*

AJ: Oh, right.

*the limo pulls away, AJ eventually wakes up after investigating certain aforementioned legalities*

I can't lie (besides the entirety of these last 2 posts)...that was pretty interesting, for me at least. Sometimes I can't help but wonder...what if?


Tupac Back, Part I: The Beginning

*fittedwearer's note: Going purely on what I'm at liberty to type on at this time, I had a pretty unexciting weekend...baby practice, Netflix, constantly updating my Facebook status, sleep, exploring an alternate reality--what? Don't form your face that way, it happened. (What, is that not normal or something?) Since the other highlight of my weekend invloved a picture taken aboard a temporarily abandoned school bus (unfortunately not of the Magic variety), I think I'll share a little of that....okay, a lot. This is a 2-part post, after all.

At some point(s) this weekend, I took a nap. I awoke slightly refreshed an hour or so later...or so I thought. I rolled over, stretched, got up, and went to drain some coolant at an alarming rate, as is standard male post-nap procedure. After groggily shuffling to the living room, I plopped down at my couch and looked for my lighter on the table...that's when I noticed a newspaper with the day's date on it. 2 things were odd about this newspaper: first, it was in the home of a current-day 23 year old who owns a laptop and smartphone, and that was odd enough. Even stranger was the headline: "GANGSTACTIVISM COMES TO PHILLY: "Rapper Turned Activist to Speak Today."

It fucked with my head so much that I didn't even have time to roll my eyes at whoever wrote that corny headline. There on the front cover under the headline was a picture of one Tupac Amaru Shakur, suited, smiling, waving to the assembled crowd, stepping either into or out of a limo...but most importantly, alive and well. Obviously, we all know (or...most of us do) what happened to Mr. Shakur on this plane of existence, so I thought it was some kind of sick joke...how could this be possible? I needed some answers fast.

...So I Googled it, and as I scrolled down the search results, my jaw got closer and closer to the ground as I realized that not only had Tupac somehow not died, but had continued his rap career for a while before eventually becoming a public speaker. True, the intellect and charisma which made his work, career, even life so captivating might also translate into other arenas, so that made it believable...but still, far as I knew, dude was dead. I had to know for sure...so I pagedug until I found the direct line to the local branch of his nationwide activism organization's offices and called them up:

*phone rings*

Receptionist: Political Underground, this is Linda, how can I help you?

AJ: Uh...yeah. I just had a quick question...um...this might sound crazy, and I apologize if it does, but is Tupac Shakur...uh...still president of the organization?

Linda: Indeed he is.

*a noise that sounds suspiciously like paper unfolding is heard*

Linda: Mr. Shakur has been president and chief officer since Political Underground was established in the year 2000 to assist with the successful Gore campaign. Political Underground is a nationwide activism group whose goal is to ensure that the voices of otherwise disenfrancished portions of the American public are heard through the appropriate channels. Mr. Shakur will be speaking in Camden, New York, Boston, and Hartford in the upcoming week as well as today's speech in Philadelphia.

AJ: Wow, you really know your sheet.

Linda: Yes, we rehearse it 5 times before our shift and twice after lunch. Is there anything else I can help you with?

AJ: Well...actually, is there any way I can speak to Pac...uh, Mr. Shakur when he's in town today?

Linda: Oh, I'm afraid he's booked up solid, Mr. Shakur is a very busy man, and I'm just not sure he has time for unscheduled personal visits.

At this point, I knew something was going on. I didn't know what it was, but damn if I wasn't going to at least take a shot at finding out what it was.

AJ: *sighs, to self* ...fuck it, I already sound crazy to her... *to Linda* Okay, here's the deal, Linda...I'm having some kind of weird-ass trip or out-of-body experience right now...it's complicated, but the short version of it is I'm probably in some alternate reality or something and this might be my only chance to talk to Tupac.

Linda: Hold please.

*elevator music version of "Keep Your Head Up" plays*

Tupac: Hello?

AJ: Is this...is this Tupac? THE Tupac?

Tupac: No, it's the other Tupac. *laughs* Yeah, it's me. What's going on, man?

AJ: *stunned silence*

Tupac: Hello?

AJ: I...

Tupac: Ay man, I wrote an album in 7 days, you can wrap up a sentence in that long.

AJ: *laughs* My fault, I'm a little...uh...nervous.

Tupac: It's cool, dawg...Linda said something about an alternate universe? What's good, man? Who am I talking to today?

AJ: I'm AJ...and yeah, I probably sound crazy but listen...

Tupac: Nah man, I feel you. I spent years of my life researching all kinds of theories...shit, I had a rap name that was a shout-out to a 15th-century philosopher. I'm open minded. So, AJ from an alternate universe...what can I do for you?

AJ: Oh. Damn, that went better than expected. Okay, so I'm sure if you know about that, you also know that I don't know how long I'm gonna be here...

Tupac: Right, right...

AJ: ...and I was a big fan of yours...

Tupac: Was?

AJ: Oh, right. Um...yeah...you're dead in my universe, Pac.

Tupac: Dead? How? When? This Suge? I told you, motherfucker, I ain't into that no--

AJ: No, no...you got the wrong idea. See, in my universe, you were killed in 1996.

Tupac: Oh word? Damn, I thought I felt myself get a little stronger around September that year.

AJ: That's really how it works?

Tupac: Crazy, right? Do the research, man...it's deep. Anyway, continue at "I'm dead as of 15 years ago"...

AJ: Yeah...you died in a shooting in LA after you got into a fight at a championship boxing match.

Tupac: That Tyson fight in Vegas? Yeah I remember that...we watched the fight, partied a little, then went back to the room. We got in a little confrontation in the lobby of some hotel with some random dudes, but my boys told me it wasn't worth it and we kept it moving. Had a good time that night. Still got a tape I made with a girlie that night, since we're sharing.

AJ: Yeah, I heard. That's not how it went down in my universe. You got into a fight with some faceless gang members over some dumb shit, trashed some guy whose biggest claim to relevance is probably that moment, and they came back and shot y'all up. You caught four slugs talking to some ladies out your sunroof.

Tupac: Yeah, that sounds like me back then. Damn, so that's what would have happened if I hadn't turned myself around after I got out of jail. I wonder about that sometimes.

AJ: Turned yourself around?

Tupac: Yeah, man. I went crazy for a while...got shot back in 94, and went to jail when that chick act like she ain't know why rap entourages invite groupies to their hotel rooms after a show. Oh...this conversation is off the record, by the way...feel me?

AJ: No, this all happened in my universe too...besides, I probably won't be around here long enough to tell anyone that matters.

Tupac: True that. But still.

AJ: Gotcha, Pac.

Tupac: In fact, if you are what you say you are, you probably want the real on everything. I hope you understand why a man in my position can't really operate that way over the phone...

AJ: My thoughts exactly. That was the favor I was asking, to see if I could sit down with you for a few minutes in person and talk to you...not for a newspaper or an internet post or anything (the man lied), just for my own personal curousity. I want to know how the Pac I knew of became...well, you.

Tupac: Listen man...roses grow from concrete sometimes. Have I taught you nothing?

AJ: You right.

Tupac: But yeah, if you wanna come down here and rap with me, I'm here at Political Underground HQ and my speech ain't til 12.

AJ: Damn, 2 hours after dawn? You're really down for the cause.

Tupac: I do it for my people, man. Anyway, if you wanna come thru here, you're welcome.

AJ: I think I'll take you up on that...see you soon, Pac.

*starts to hang up*

Tupac: Wait, wait! AJ!

AJ: Huh?

Tupac: In your universe, when I...died...I was still with Suge that night, right?

AJ: Yep.

Tupac: They get him too?

AJ: Nope.

Tupac: Hmm. Okay. Anyway, look forward to meeting you, AJ.

AJ: It'll be an honor.

Tupac: Ya damn right...later, man.

AJ: *laughs* Later, Pac.

"Tupac Back: Part II, Last Wordz"- coming Wednesday!


In Both Hands

Well, this should be fun. Afternoon, umf'ers...I know I recently promised full-time posting, and it's something I definitely plan to follow through on. However, in the last week or so I've been busy with a few special projects...and a kid. Some I can speak on, some I can't just yet, but I'll share with y'all right up to (and possibly just a bit over), the line of common sense and appropriateness at this time...just like always.

For starters, I'm officially a writer now. Sure, I've been scribbling shit online where people can read it for about 5 years now, and that kinda counts...but not really. Any asshole can Google up how to create their own e-soapbox and do the internet equivalent of barking random bullshit into a megaphone on a street corner while making it rain on passerby with pamphlets...case in point, look where you are. Yes, I figured out how to publish a book, but Superhead can say the same...the criteria's for "writer" a bit over her qualifications (she's more for the screen).

Nope, what I feel truly separates a career from a hobby is taking it in both hands. See, most hobbies, like building model airplanes or collecting Elvis figurines/sneakers/baby fathers, must be juggled with distractions like a day job. Though it may be something you love, you can't quite embrace it the way you would if you had both hands free for it...at the very most, you get it in one hand for a brief period before you have to throw it in the air again, if you don't end up dropping it completely because you can't concentrate on everything at the same time. (See umf August-February.)

Not anymore, y'all. Now, I get to take both my career and life in both hands, and I'm making use of both. This shit is about to go to the next level...I'm upping my post rate on both fanpages, started work on book #2, I even spent $60 on stickers yesterday. (Damn...that didn't sound as cool as I imagined. What I meant to type was "I got like 1,000 Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life cover stickers printed up and I'm gonna give them out, tuck them in future sold books, as well as stick em all over this fucking planet, and I hope y'all can help me out.") I'm doing more promo than ever, and I'm not the only person who thinks my book is pretty damn good anymore...so I thought that was a pretty good excuse to start getting some of these printed up:

Check that shit, out eh? My personal f.u.c.k.'N shirt. No "C" for you (sorry, I called "captain"), but you can definitely own one soon.
Can't lie, I'm excited about that one. A lot of people wear thear hearts on their sleeves, but how many get to wear their minds on their chest? It'll be available on my new website in a few wee--oh shit, I forgot to mention the new website, didn't I? Um...yeah, I finally put out the $2 domain name charge (times is hard, man!) so there's gonna be a website now...ajmoses.com.

Going online in a couple weeks (you can be damn sure you'll know when), ajmoses.com will be the #1 source on the internet for...uh...well, if you can't figure that out, please don't visit. Updates on umf, "FfYL" and future "books" and projects, events like book signings, reviews, interviews, and...um...any other shit I trick people into featuring me in, a store (so people can finally stop asking me where the "buy" link is for the book..not that I don't love to be asked) and...well, a bunch of other stuff to offset the automatic douchedom that comes with having a website named after you that you created.

Like I said, I can't talk about everything yet, but that's about enough for one post, eh? (Shut the fuck up, you in the back who said "you only post once a month anyway"...you're almost right, but that's not nice.) I've always had ambitions as a writer, but I'm finally getting a chance to turn my ambitions into action. I'm taking this thing with both hands now...buckle up. Happy Friday, umf'ers!